Tintin in Tibet
by los.kav
Summary: An airplane crash devastates Tintin's world, but can he do the impossible and bring a friend back from the dead? Modern!Tiintin
1. Chapter 1

**_This story is dedicated to Friendships everywhere. _**

_**Disclaimer:** Tintin and Friends do not belong to me. I make no money from these stories, which is kind of a shame considering there's thousands of people reading them and I could use the money. _

* * *

**Chapter One**

_it is by chance we met; by choice we became friends_

- Henri Nouwen

* * *

It was with easy joviality that Tintin was able to persuade Snowy to accompany him on the fourth morning of their holiday in Vargése with Captain Haddock and Professor Calculus, even if both the Captain and the Professor flatly turned him down.

On the first day they'd spent their time by the pool, relaxing and soaking up the sun that the fine, Indian summer had granted them. By the second day, Tintin was raring to go and had joined a hike led by the resort's able and experienced guide. He'd enjoyed a gentle ramble through the sparser woods that clung to the to the foothills that faced the southern side of the Hotel des Sommets. It had been a fine walk, but slow, and Tintin had still felt restless afterwards.

That evening, while the Captain had propped up the expensive bar of the hotel's pub, Tintin had scaled the huge indoor rock wall. His time was twenty minutes, and given practice he'd probably beat the hotel's current record (15 minutes and 49 seconds). He had opted to do it freestyle, with only one safety rope (the anxious instructor had been adamant about that) and a helmet. He'd gotten about a third of the way up when he began to feel alive again. There was just him and the (admittedly fake) rock; he carefully and quickly felt for handholds and tested his footholds confidently, until the noise of the few rowdy teens and kids that haunted this part of the hotel's indoor resort were shut out and the only thing that existed was his increasing height and the obstacle in front of him.

As soon as he'd abseiled back down to the bottom the instructor had pulled him aside and drawn out a few rough maps of more challenging hikes around the area. They all started quite close to the hotel and the tourist village of Vargése and he was eager to try them out. He loved to climb. He didn't now why, but he did. In fact, Cuthbert was fond of calling him the Missing Link, and his fearlessness lent an extra edge to some of the pranks he played on the Captain.

Yesterday they'd visited the village and a nearby town that had a museum, and done a few touristy things to placate the Captain. But this morning Tintin had pulled on his hiking boots and set out, his backpack filled with a few emergency supplies, and set out with the morning hikers, splitting from them when they reached their first designated rest point to continue east, up out of the foothills and onto the mountain pass proper. At this low altitude there had even been a road, enclosed by a flimsy guard rail (and beyond that a sheer drop into either the valley below or the lake, depending on where you were: the road offered spectacular views of both) on one side and the steep, sheer rock walls of the mountain on the other.

Tintin and Snowy had walked all morning and it was early afternoon when they reached their promised reward: the little mountain village of Le va C'ancy - the last outpost of civilization in this part of the Alps. Once you left this place, striking upwards, you were on your own. It would take two days at best to reach Base Camp from here: the manned camp and medical center were higher up but further back, to the west. To go forward meant doubling back on a tricky trail that wasn't recommended for novice hikers and climbers. In fact, it would probably take less time to hike back to Vargése and take a different, more direct route to the Base Camp.

Le va C'ancy had a population of only 508 people. Most of them were workers employed by the telephone and internet companies to keep the phone lines up for as long as possible during the hard, winter months, and to repair them during the volatile springs, summers and autumns, when storms and high winds did a lot of damage. It was a hard job, but necessary, so important was Vargése to the tourist economy. A huge number of people from all over the world passed through this quiet, sleepy looking corner of the world: millions each year. From holiday makers that partied through the summer, to the determined campers and naturalists of autumn, not to forget the winter skiers and snowboarders and the relaxed, restful retirees of spring.

Many families lived in Le va C'ancy: hard jobs bring bigger paycheques, and the men and women that worked here stayed for years: for as long as they could. It was a job for life and the village was beautiful and remote, with a bus that ran to Vargése below several times a day. There was a good primary school in Vargése, and a decent high school, with an even better one in a town another short ride away, which accepted students as boarders. The only thing Le va C'ancy had was one of the oldest, and smallest, churches in France and a pub that was also - as Tintin learned when he went it to see if it served food - a general store, a post office, a restaurant and a comedy club.

The pub had seating out back: a small enclosed smoking area, but it faced out onto the village square, which was simply spectacular. A fountain bubbled up in the exact middle, and beyond it was a small picnic area with wooden tables and benches. To the right was a one storwy, lazy-looking building that was both the Town Hall and the library. To the left was the small church, a pretty little grey building decorated by hanging baskets and planters filled with late blooming Autumn flowers like wild roses and a strange, purple-headed flower that Tintin couldn't place but which grew wild in the forest down below.

But the real reason Tintin had chosen to eat out here lay beyond the picnic tables and the low, grey stone wall: the view of the Alps towering up and tumbled down around the valley itself. The harsh grey bled into the cold brown of the foothills. In turn, the browns turned to green, like the russet Autumn descent made solid. The trees in the forest shivered below clinging to their foliage for as long as possible. The lake, immense and as smooth as glass at this distance, sprawled down into the valley's bed. Vargése clung to south end of it, nestled securely between some of the greatest forces of nature; a man-made stamp that declared the resilient optimism of the human race.

He savored a bowl of chili and allowed himself a half a pint of a locally brewed beer. Nursing both, he and Snowy lingered for at least two hours. Tintin spent the time enjoying the feeling of aliveness that had bubbled up and threatened to overspill, while Snowy had slaked his thirst with the fountain, relieved himself on a flowerbed, and fell asleep at his master's feet, completely indifferent to the scenery.

Tintin was sure he could lure the Captain up here, with the combined promise of an easy road and a cosy pub at the other end. The hardest part would be convincing him to try the hike to the Base Camp, but it could probably be done.

'Come on, you.' He poked Snowy awake and began getting his own luggage together. The dog reluctantly got up, torn between the happy feeling of going for a walk and his tiredness. Happiness won out for a little while, though, and he bounded ahead, snuffling the road and chasing the Autumn insects until the day grew longer and he fell back to his master's side, panting heavily and longing for Home.

**XXX**

The Hotel des Sommets was set in the town of Vargése at the foot of the French side of the Alps. Captain Haddock had booked three weeks here because it was remote and quiet and safe (as long as one wasn't a complete idiot), while still offering something for an adrenaline junkie like Tintin.

They'd needed a holiday. They'd been pushed from pillar to post recently. First, the Captain had been redeployed with the navy when the threat of a new World War had loomed - gone were words like 'skirmish' and 'war on terror': it was flat out who-blinks-first-gets-nuked-**WAR** - while Tintin had done that thing in the middle east that seemed to settle the situation firmly back into the realm of Common Sense and diplomacy. Then there'd been the space thing, and after that Tintin had moved in to Marlinspike Hall - _Finally! - _but their restful summer had been cut short by Cuthbert getting abducted and held by the Bordurian government, which had resulted in a frantic chase that took them all over Europe, from Belgium to Borduria over in the Baltic southeast. No sooner were they back then that horror Abdullah had landed on their doorstep, and the less said about that the better.

Poor Nestor. This holiday was more for him than anyone else. Captain Haddock, safe on the back deck of the hotel, which overlooked the lake and the small, rocky beach, shuddered and finished his pint. A powerful thirst had come upon him in the last hour or so, and the very pretty waitress had been trotting back and forth to the bar for him ever since.

She was a very obliging young lady, he had to say. Then again, he'd been tipping her €5 per drink, so it was in her best interest to be obliging. He looked around in the hopes of summoning her now but she was already ready for him, slipping out of the long, wide glass doors of the bar with a fresh bottle and a new glass, the condensation standing out like cold beads of sweat on the bottle. She winked at him, he winked back, and an extra €5 note found its way to the palm of her hand. She'd just made twenty quid* in tips in an hour, and she was happy. She bounced away, quietly exuberant, and he let himself look at her bottom as it sashayed away. She must have been at least 25, so he didn't feel like a total pervert for admiring her. The only pang of shame came when he realised that he was now at the age where he automatically called anyone under the age of 30 a 'boy' or 'girl' because - _Let's face it, _he thought grimly -_ they're all still kids at that age._

The waitress held herself a little differently, straightening her posture and accentuating her natural sway as she walked by Tintin. The boy's head was turned, of course, but only for a moment. He grinned at the Captain as he neared the table. 'Good view, no?'

'Not bad,' the Captain agreed.

'I take it you had a good day?' Tintin asked as he took his rucksack off.

'Marvellous,' the Captain declared. 'What about you? You must be knackered** by now.'

'A bit tired, I must say.' Tintin did his best not to drop into the seat opposite his friend too heavily. At his feet, Snowy had no qualms about flopping unceremoniously onto the warm wood of the deck. Still panting, when he looked up at them he looked as though he was smiling in delight.

'I'm on top of the world,' Tintin said warmly. 'The mountains are superb, and the air is like champagne. You should come with me sometime.'

The Captain interrupted him with a loud snort. Tintin grinned good naturedly.

'Not on your life! I don't mind mountains as scenery, but this passion for clambering over big piles of rocks? That's what gets me! Anyway, you go up, spend a few minutes having a look around, and then you have to come back down again. I mean, what's the flaming point?

'Nobody ever thinks of the risks either. Y'can break your neck as quick as anything up there, and you're always seeing accidents in the papers, aren't you? Mountain drama here; Alpine disaster there... You'd think folks would learn their lesson but they never bloody do. Naaaaah!' He shook his head vehemently. 'Mountains should be abolished.'

Tintin couldn't help but laugh. 'How can you abolish a mountain?'

'I dunno. That's for Them to figure out,' the Captain said with a sniff.

'Who's "them"?' Tintin asked.

'Eh, boffins? The government? I don't know. Anyway, at least it would stop all those airplanes from bumping into every other peak. Look, it's happened again.' The Captain tapped the folded up newspaper before sliding it over to Tintin. 'In Nepal this time. I've just finished reading it, so you can take it if you like.'

Tintin opened the newspaper and flicked through it until he found the story the Captain was talking about.

_**NEPAL AIR DISASTER**_

It was a small enough piece, and Tintin read it quickly.

_"The DC3 missing since the late hours of the weekend, on a flight from Patna to Katmandu, is reported to have crashed in the Gosain Than Massif. It is believed that the plane, belonging to AirIndia, was driven towards the Himalayas by a violent storm. Yesterday, a search and rescue plane spotted the wreckage of the aircraft in a remote and dangerous area. As soon as the news was received, a rescue party set out for the peak where the aircraft crashed. _

_The aircraft is known to have carried fourteen passengers and four crew. Their fate remains unknown."_

'Those poor people,' Tintin murmured even as his eye was drawn to the bigger story below (_Daring Diamond Heist in Vienna!) _'What a terrible place to crash. They wouldn't stand a chance up there.'

'That's mountains for you,' the Captain said darkly. Somewhere up high on the outer wall of the hotel a soft, tinkling chime began to sound.

'There's dinner!' the Captain said happily. 'Come on: I'm absolutely famished.'

Later it would secretly alarm Tintin how quickly he was able to disregard the crash, how quickly he pushed it from his thoughts as he followed the Captain into the luxurious dining room, his mind already turned toward the waiting meal, the good conversation and the relaxing evening that lay ahead of him.

* * *

* A quid has been mentioned in Tintin before. The Thompsons chewed a 'quid' of tobacco in Red Rackham's Treasure. However, in this instance, a quid is slang for a Pound Sterling, the currency of England. I'm not sure if I've specifically mentioned it, but in this world the Captain is from York in England.

** Knackered is UK and Irish slang for tired (it also means a member of the gypsy community - knacker - or a testicle. In this instance, the Captain means money. He gave her twenty pounds in tips.

**Author's Note:** There's going to be something in this story that a lot of fans won't like: Tintin's embarrassment at the Captain*. Now, it's no secret that I try to keep Modern!Tintin as true to real life as I can. And - to be fair - it isn't beyond the realm of possibility for a teenager to be embarrassed by their dad (and I do consider Captain Haddock to be Tintin's 'dad'). It isn't raised in this chapter but, on reading the real book, the Captain does things that are embarrassing several times during the adventure. If you don't like Tintin being embarrassed by the Captain's actions, that's fair enough. But the pay off is more than worth it It fits in to the story I'm telling, and it fits with the version of the characters that I write. Please remember that when posting your reviews.

*Imagine your dad dancing at a wedding, and multiply that by a million. Remember that embarrassment? Yeah, that's Tintin's. Times a million.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_You don't stop having fun when you're old; you get old when you stop having fun_

- Rita Ghatorey

* * *

'I have good news and bad news,' the Captain said. He was holding two brightly coloured cardboard boxes. 'The bad news is, chess is missing a piece. But not to worry, because there's Jenga!' He waved one of the boxes to emphasise his point.

'We're not settling a battle of wits over a game of Jenga,' Tintin said with a groan.

'Have it your own way,' the Captain replied. He sat down and quickly set up the chessboard, claiming white for himself, for the 'inconvenience'. 'Right, I'm missing a pawn,' he declared. 'Well, I shall have to use one of these.' He removed a slim Jenga tile from the box and brandished it at Tintin. 'I will call him Jengar, of the tribe Jenga. He's a recent recruit.' He mimed the Jenga piece knocking over Tintin's king. 'This is _Jengaaaaaaaa!' _

Tintin gave him a Look. It was the one that said "You're embarrassing me again" and the Captain _hated _it. Every kid did it, usually to their parents - the Captain distinctly remembered giving that Look to his own father, God rest his soul - but while they used to be a rare occurrence they seemed to be coming more and more often these days. It meant that Tintin was really starting to grow up, and he _was_ developing into a fine young man, but the Captain watched it happen with a touch of sorrow colouring his pride.

'First move's mine,' the Captain muttered. He eyed the board keenly. He was only slightly apprehensive, after all he was the adult and a former captain in the navy. _You can do this, _he told himself. _So what if Tintin is some kind of freakish tactical genius? You're not afraid of him! _He took his move. 'Go forth, Jengar, my man!'

Tintin snapped a pawn forward._ I'm more tired than I realised, _he thought.

'And again, Jengar.'

Tintin moved the same pawn forward. _Plonk! _He knocked the Jenga piece over and very deliberately ignored the Captain's anguished shout _('Jengar! Nooo!') _and flicked it off the board.

The Captain stared at the fallen Jenga piece in mock anger and horror. 'I shall avenge your death, brave soldier! It's on,' he added to Tintin. 'It's on like Donkey Kong.'

**XXX**

Tintin's good natured competitiveness quickly dwindled to an all pervasive tiredness shortly after. Now, he could barely muster the energy to make a move. They were getting into the crucial stage of the game: the jovial opening had drifted into strategic planning, which in turn would become growing ebullience or mounting dread, depending on how your plan compared to your opponents. Very often the Captain and Tintin's games could take several enjoyable hours, but with sleep breathing down the back of Tintin's neck he wasn't looking forward to the prospect of still being awake in two hours. He glanced lazily at the board and tried to find the quickest, dirtiest way to end the game.

_There! _His current Favourite Pawn was edging closer to the Captain's queen. Tintin had been using her - he always thought of pawns as female because it made sense: under the Haddock Rules for Chess (patent pending) all pawns graduated to Queendom once they crossed the board - to needle a way for his castle to get through the Captain's pieces. If he were in a more ambitious mood, Tintin would be battling to get a second queen into play, but that was how their games lasted for hours. There had been many times that the final board contained two huddling, frantic kings and a handful of ruthless queens cornering one another, intent on carnage: their bloodlust raised by the twin armies that had already fallen to their wrath. They weren't games, they were _massacres. _

He grinned at the memory and made his move. He would sacrifice his castle but it was worth it to end the game in just four extra moves. In fact, it was worth it just to see the look on the Captain's face, never mind the prospect of clean sheets and a comfortable bed. He settled back, his chin resting heavily on this fist, as the Captain leaned forward to survey the damage.

_Hmm. That bloody pawn. _The Captain had been inching his bishop up slowly. He'd already set up his other bishop to take it whenever Tintin moved it forward, as he was sure to do, but instead of doing that the wretched gondolier had moved his castle up the board instead, in a curiously defensive move…

_He's going for another queen! _

The Captain recognised the signs at once. It was a classic Tintin strategy: keep the Captain's attention focused on another part of the board, and while he was concentrating there Tintin would slip an unassuming pawn into the Captain's Special Place (he knew they didn't play chess like other people did, but he didn't care: their way was more fun). The Captain was more direct about it. He would choose a pawn, hold it up for Tintin to see and christen it Princess Such-and-such, clearly showing his intent to crown it.

_Hmm, hmm, hmm. What to do, what to do? Well, first of all I'd better get my own queen out of there. Or I can bring my knight back… No, that's a stupid move. What about a pawn…? No, too far away. Blistering barnacles! Right, ok, Queenie, you stay put and fight the rearguard. Bishop, you're on flank. _

_Tintin'll have to divert that blasted pawn to cover his castle. So unfortunately, Reverend, this is a suicide mission for you. But not to worry! You won't be sacrificed in vain! An eye for an eye and BLAMMO! I take his castle, and Check! Very neat! _The Captain's hand reached out for the bishop. _What do you say to that, Tintin my lad? _

_**'CHANG!' **_

The Captain's hand shook as he jumped about a foot into the air, scattering some of the chess pieces. Unfortunately, the rest of the pieces - and indeed the board itself - scattered when the Captain's knees hit the bottom of the laughably small table, which clearly hadn't been designed for a man of his height.

_It was a knee jerk reaction. _He would have said it out loud if he wasn't so bloody shocked by Tintin's scream. He wasn't the only one that had jumped either: the waiter had dropped a whole tray of coffee and hot chocolate he was in the middle of serving. Some poor child had jumped onto his mother's back, so traumatized was he. Nearly everyone had jogged or dropped something - there was bright pink wool all over the table next to theirs, and the Captain didn't dare wonder what that was all about. In fact, the only person unaffected was Cuthbert, who probably hadn't heard a thing, the deaf old goat. Although how he'd missed such a sudden, loud, testicle-shriveling cry of pure fear was beyond the Captain. But, true to form, the Professor was still stuck deep in his copy of _The Di Vinci Code, _laughing heartily from time to time. From the way the Professor described it, it sounded like a great comedy and the Captain couldn't wait to read it…

Everyone else was glaring at Tintin, so the Captain joined in. 'Billions of blue, _blistering _barnacles! Did you do that on purpose? Or did you _really_ have to sneeze like that?' At their feet, Snowy was sitting blinking at them, surprised out of sleep. His tail was wagging frantically as he cautiously sniffed his bum, trying to figure out if it was a fart that woke him.

'But… I, I didn't sneeze,' Tintin said.

Now that the Captain had a chance to look at him properly, it was clear that he was as surprised as the rest of them. He'd gone pale under his healthy tan. 'Are you alright?' the Captain asked, still suspicious.

'I'm sorry. I… I think I must have fallen asleep. I had some sort of a… a nightmare. Ugh, it was horrible.'

'Nightmare?' Now the Captain was getting confused. 'What d'you mean, nightmare?'

'I… I was dreaming about Chang - I know I've mentioned him. The Chinese guy I'm friends with. You must remember: he was with me that time I got shot in the arm. Oh, come on! I saved him from drowning?'

'Oh yeah, him.' The Captain waved the story along.

Tintin shuddered. 'It was awful.' The Captain watched as Tintin had to clench his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. He certainly wasn't putting it on. Although they were still getting dirty looks from the other guests that had congregated in the sitting room the Captain could see that Tintin was genuinely affected by something.

'There was just…. Snow. Everywhere I looked. Pure white, nothing else, and it was _huge. _Just… a vast, empty space. It was _like _space, that same… desolate emptiness.' They shared a shiver at the memory before Tintin continued; 'Then I could hear Chang calling my name. He said that I was the only person he knew who would come to find him. So I started to look but there was only snow, it was so white it hurt my eyes. I tried to turn away, and then I saw Chang.' Tintin's eyes became distant as the dream started to come back to him. 'He was lying in the snow, half buried by it, like an avalanche or something, but his bones were broken and he was bleeding…' His voice faltered as he remembered that detail and the scene blossomed fully into his minds eye with startling clarity. He suppressed another shudder. 'I'm sorry, it was just so real. I… I'm sorry,' he said again.

'It's fine,' the Captain said, his gruffness tempered by concern. 'Don't worry about it. You should get off to bed though: you're dead tired.'

'I think you're right,' Tintin agreed. He kept his head down as he got up. 'Goodnight, Captain. I'll see you in the morning.' Under the hostile scrutiny of the other guests he did his best to slink nonchalantly out of the room. Ever loyal, Snowy stuck to his feet like a tiny bodyguard.


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

_Hope is the greatest madness_

- Alfred de Vigny

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and clear. The Indian summer continued its mild streak, and with it came something unusual: the Captain was up first. He was by no means a late riser - far from it - but even so he was usually piped to the post by Cuthbert, who always seemed to be awake and working by about 6am, followed by Tintin who was awake and staggering to let Snowy out by about 8. And yet here it was, after 9 and the Captain had already eaten the biggest croissant and was halfway through his first cup of tea before Tintin appeared. There was still no sign of Cuthbert though.

'Hello there!' the Captain called as Tintin made his way over. 'How'd you sleep? No more crazy dreams, I hope.'

'Good morning, Captain,' Tintin replied as he sat down. Nosy Snowy braced himself against Tintin's leg and stood up on his hind legs, nose stuck up into the air and one beady eye firmly on the plates that lay on the table. 'No more dreams, no,' Tintin continued as he gently pushed at Snowy until the dog got down and stopped being such an obvious greedy guts. 'No dreams, but not much sleep either. Every time I close my eyes I see Chang lying there, half dead and begging for help.'

'Rubbish!' the Captain declared. 'Dreams go by the opposite, isn't that what they say? Don't even think about it. Put it out of your head. And look, a letter came for you, all the way from Tokyo. Feels more like a card though.' He jabbed his finger at the airmail envelope he had left propped against a spare coffee cup.

'Tokyo?' The haunted look disappeared from Tintin's face, replaced by a frown. 'Who do we know in Japan?' It was a genuine question. He'd done a huge publicity tour, about a year ago, and it had been his biggest one so far. He'd visited so many countries that the Captain had to remind him every second day which city they were in.

'I've no idea,' the Captain replied as he finished off his tea and set about serving coffee, 'but it's come a long way to reach you. From Japan to Labrador Road, to Marlinspike, to here. Nestor must have sent it on.'

'Who's writing to me from Tokyo?' Still baffled, Tintin studied the envelope and its various addresses, but the only thing it told him was that the post office had noted his change of address and were forwarding his mail to Marlinspike Hall. He tore it open carefully and a postcard and two folded pages of A4 paper fell out. On the postcard, an attractive Asian woman reclined on a beach somewhere hot. _WISH YOU WERE HER, _it proclaimed. Tintin gave a small laugh, still confused, and turned it over to read the note on the back:

_I wholeheartedly agree with those sentiments. Your good friend,_

_**"CHANG!" **_

The Captain almost dropped the coffee pot. Sadly, he did drop the cup and the boiling liquid it contained. Most of it landed on the table but a small part of it landed straight on his leg and hurt like _hell. _'Don't you dare!' he snapped as he hurriedly swatted the stain with a napkin. 'There's no way you can pass that off as a nightmare! You did that on purpose!'

'No, no, it's _from _Chang!' Tintin's eyes were glued to the letter. Chang had begun it by explaining that he'd bought the postcard, intent on sending it to Tintin during the short holiday he'd spent in Tokyo, where his brother Didi now lived, but realised he had too much to say in such a small space. However, he liked the card so much he decided to send it anyway, with a letter explaining his big news, which was -

'He's in Tokyo visiting his brother. They're flying out - well, they must have flown out already, by now - to Calcutta where Didi is doing some voluntary work. And then Chang has a stop-over in Kathmandu of all places, to visit some family or something, but then, Captain, and this is the important bit, then he's flying into Brussels to look at some universities! Universities, Captain!' Tintin's smile became enormous. 'Not only will he be here for the next month, he might be coming back next year to study!'

'Oh. Well, that's good.' The Captain had never met Chang but he was vaguely aware of the boy's existence. 'He's, er, nothing like Abdullah, is he?'

'Chang? Nooo! Not at all. He's very funny, but he's very quiet too. He's honestly one of the nicest people I know. He has a heart of gold.'

'Humph.'

'You'll see,' Tintin promised. Still on cloud nine he turned his attention to Snowy. He patted his leg and Snowy put his front paws back up, wagging his tail at Tintin's obvious happiness before turning his eyes firmly back to the waiting food. Tintin grabbed his paws gently and stood up, turning Snowy as though they were dancing, until the dog couldn't see the food and had to focus on his master. 'And Chang's a friend of yours too, isn't he? Where's Chang? Where's Chang?' Snowy cocked his head from side to side, recognising the name at once. He started to bark in a high-pitched tone of excitement.

Tintin straightened up as Snowy ran off to try and find Chang. 'Professor Calculus!' he cried, spying the familiar figure making his way towards their table. He seized Cuthbert by the shoulders. 'Wonderful news! Chang is coming!'

'Champagne?' the Professor asked. 'At this hour of the morning?'

In answer, Tintin started to tango dance back to the table, bringing the Professor aong for the ride.

'I take it you're happy?' the Captain asked, amused. Snowy came trotting back, just as confused as poor Cuthbert seemed to be.

'I blame you,' Cuthbert said to the Captain, a trifle harshly the Captain thought, as he and Tintin sashayed past. 'It is most reprehensible, Captain, to give this impressionable young man champagne in the morning.'

Tintin gave up with a shake of his head and, still grinning, went back to his letter, rereading the most important parts. _Chang in Belgium! Chang looking at universities in Brussels and other parts of Belgium! Ok, and France, Germany, the UK and Holland, too, but still! The Brussels school of Art and Design was on the list! _The possibilities swam in Tintin's head. They probably wouldn't be living in the same country but Chang being a couple of hours away by train was much better than Chang being a couple of days away by plane.

'So when's he coming then?' the Captain asked, cutting into Tintin's silent jubilation. 'This… son of heaven of yours?'

'Let me see… Ok, Tokyo to Calcutta, to Patna, to Kathmandu. Blah, blah, blah…. Ah! Here it is! _"I fly out to Calcutta with Didi, then on to Nepal. My father wants me to visit his cousin in Kathmandu. They grew up together - you should hear some of the stories about them! Remind me to fill you in. Anyway, this cousin has about a million kids (well, only ten, but still, that's a lot!) and I'm bringing over half a toy store to them as presents."' _Tintin thought for a second. Something had jogged his memory. 'Nepal?' he said. 'Kathmandu?' His eyes widened. 'Captain, the plane that hit the mountain… that wasn't going to Kathmandu, was it?'

'Naaaah!' The Captain sound positive, even though a small, worried crease appeared at the bridge of his nose. He opened the morning's paper with a sharp crack and started skimming it as Tintin hovered anxiously at his shoulder, fidgeting impatiently.

'There!' Tintin lunged, tearing the newspaper as he tried to devour the details of the crash. _'"Nepal Air Disaster,'" _he read. _'"No survivors."' _He started at the top and began to read. The Captain, his eyes on a different level, was drawn to a passage further down the page.

_Tragic Delay. _

_Among the bodies missing from the crash site is that of a young Chinese student, Chang Chong-Chen, who was travelling from his home in Singapore to Belgium, with a short stop-over in Kathmandu to visit family. He had arrived in Patna early on Saturday, but was ten minutes late for his flight. Facing an over-night stay, he managed to obtain a last minute place on the ill-fated DC3 - _

Tintin caught up. He finished reading the passage before sitting - almost collapsing - into the vacant seat beside the Captain. He shook his head slowly. 'That can't be Chang. That _can't _be true. Captain?' He turned his wide eyes on the Captain, who scooted his chair over so he could comfortably rest his hand on Tintin's back without straining.

'I think,' he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, 'that maybe you should calm down a bit - you've had a bit of a shock - and then we'll go and ring his father and confirm' -

'Confirm?' Tintin rested his face on his arms and burst into tears. The Captain tried not to look too uncomfortable.

'Now!' Cuthbert crowed. 'That's what you get when you get him drunk on champagne!'

'Will you stop going on about champagne!' the Captain snapped, his hand still rubbing small, comforting circles on Tintin's back. He was glad of the distraction: he'd never really seen Tintin cry before. He felt useless knowing there was little he could do to ease the pain his young friend was facing the days ahead, a pain that would stretch into weeks and months and rear its ugly head at times like birthdays and Christmas. The Captain knew that from experience. He had been quite young when his father had died, and a little older when his mother had passed, but he still remembered both at the oddest times. He'd almost phoned his father a few times, to share good news or a joke, before remembering that the old man was long gone. When that happened, the memories left behind had been almost as bad as ghosts, and made him miss their loss almost as keenly.

There was no doubt in the Captain's mind that it had been the same Chang on the plane - Mr Wang, Tintin's friend and Chang's adopted father - was mentioned by name and at the bottom the journalist had mentioned that Tintin himself had yet to be reached for comment. _God bless you, Nestor, for keeping the paps and the journalists away, _the Captain thought, _but damn you for not warning us about it! I know I said "No calls" but this is ridiculous! _Beside him, Tintin's tears had stopped as suddenly as they had started.

'It isn't true,' Tintin said, his voice losing its shake as he continued, more confidently; 'I know for a fact it's not true. Chang isn't dead.'

'Err.' The Captain gestured to the newspaper. 'I mean, there's always room for a little hope, but I'm pretty sure' -

'He cant be dead: I'm sure of it,' Tintin interrupted. 'Think about it logically.'

'Logically?' the Captain said pointedly.

Tintin ignored him. 'The plane went down late Saturday-early Sunday, our time. But I saw Chang on Wednesday, yesterday. Badly hurt, yes, but still alive.'

'Ok,' the Captain said after a short pause to compose his thoughts, 'but you know that was a dream, right?'

'It could have been, I don't know, long range telepathy or some sort of E.S.P.,' Tintin replied dismissively. 'There's quite a lot of evidence for it these days. One thing is for sure: it show's that Chang is still alive.'

'And this is thinking logically, is it? Right, let's calm down for a bit, shall we? I know death is tough to accept' -

'He's alive, Captain.' Tintin stood up abruptly. 'He's alive and I intend to find him. I'm leaving for Nepal.'

'What! Hang on a minute!'

'That's right, you go and sober up,' Cuthbert said.

'No! Come back here! Tintin!' The Captain had to jog to catch up with his friend. 'Look here, I understand that you're grieving, and I know that dream, or nightmare or whatever, shook you, but you _have _to listen to reason!'

'No, I _have _to save Chang,' Tintin replied reasonably.

'Ten thousand thundering typhoons! How can you save someone who's already dead?'

'Chang isn't dead.'

'Good Lord, Tintin, you said it yourself: they wouldn't stand a chance of surviving up there' -

_**'CHANG!' **_

The both jumped at the shout. For a second, the Captain found himself looking up in case it was God speaking to them, but it wasn't. It was a bleached-blonde older woman with a pinched face. Her bored-looking husband was polishing off his own breakfast while at their feet a snub-nosed dog snuffled at Snowy curiously.

'Chang!' the woman continued, addressing the dog as she stared at Tintin and the Captain haughtily. 'What have I told you about speaking to common mongrels? Come to mummy, darling.' Her voice changed to a sugary, sweet tone, and the Captain found himself irrationally and violently hating her and those of her ilk.

'Bloody stupid name for a dog,' he snapped.

'Not really,' Tintin said with a shrug. 'It's a Pekinese so it's probably quite a common name.' He kept going, slightly ahead of the Captain. Snowy trailed behind, throwing looks back at the sad-faced Pekinese.

'Tintin, listen to me,' the Captain pleaded. 'If your friend was still alive, the rescue party would have found him, yes?'

'Maybe.'

'"Maybe?"' The Captain was flabbergasted. '_"Maybe?"_ How do you explain it, then? If he's alive, why didn't he' -

_**'CHANG!' **_

It sounded more like a choke than a cry this time, but they still both jumped. Tintin laughed shakily as a door opened and a droopy-looking maid appeared, a wad of tissues clamped to her nose. 'Sorry,' she said half-heartedly.

'Did you _really _have to sneeze like that!'

'I _ab _sorry,' she replied indignantly. 'I'b got a terrible cold id by dose.' Her face contorted as she sneezed again. _'Chang!' _The Captain hurried after Tintin with a shake of his head. The teen had already entered their suite and had gone directly to his bedroom. The Captain found him there, hastily slinging clothes into his suitcase.

'Even if he is alive you won't be able to find him,' the Captain warned, starting the conversation back up again. 'You read the paper: a team of experienced mountaineers and sherpas couldn't find him. What chance do you have?'

Tintin continued stuffing things into his suitcase. 'As long as he's alive, I have to try. It might sound stupid to you, but there it is.'

'Just listen to yourself!' the captain cried. He never had a tight handle on his anger, but this was beyond the preservation of any man! 'Do you understand, Tintin? _The plane tore open.' _The Captain reached over and slammed the suitcase shut, almost catching Tintin's fingers in its grip. _'Chang's body wasn't found at the crash site because he was ripped out of the plane and fell about a million feet. His body could be _anywhere. Nobody could survive that.' He paused and took stock of Tintin, who was standing very still. 'I know it's hard to hear,' the Captain continued, his voice softening as he let go of his anger. 'But you have to get a grip.'

'What if it was me?' Tintin demanded, his voice tight. 'What if I went out and never came back? And no trace was found of me? What if days turned into weeks and everyone told you I was dead? Would you accept it? Or would you keep looking?'

'If you were very-definitely dead?' the Captain asked sarcastically. 'Um, gee, let me think.'

'No, if everyone told you I was dead but you knew in your heart I was alive.'

'Pfft. That's… that's… that's entirely different. That's actually happened, for a start. Do I have to remind you of the Bird Brothers?'

'And did you stop looking for me?'

'Well, no, of course not, but I knew you were alive.'

'Exactly!' Tintin pounced on it at once. 'You knew I was still alive, and I know, Captain, I _know _Chang is still alive. And since I know Chang is still alive, I'm going to look for him.'

'Fine!' The Captain's anger flared again. 'Fine! Be obstinate, you mule! Go to Tibet. Go to Vladivostok! Go to Timbuk-ruddy-tu, for all care! But you're going on your own, and that's a fact!'


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

_Death leaves a heartache no one can heal; love leaves a memory no one can steal _

- Old Irish Proverb

* * *

The Captain stormed down to the reception desk, still irate.

'Hello, sir!' The smiling lady at the desk took the bluster from his sails with her all-pervading air of friendly calmness.

'Hmph. Hello,' the Captain replied gruffly. 'Any messages for Haddock?'

'Let me check.' Still calm and smiling, she tapped the computer keyboard. She pursed her lips a little at what came up. 'Yes, sir: about fifteen minutes ago a gentleman rang, a Mr Nestor at Marlinspike Hall. I'll just print this out for you.' Something behind the desk whirred as the Captain drummed his fingers against the polished oak. 'There you are, sir,' she said, handing over a small, rectangle piece of cardboard. 'Not bad news, I hope.'

'The worst,' the Captain murmured as he read the card.

_Sir, it is urgent that you call me at once. And please do not let the young master read the morning papers. _

'Excuse me, miss, but I need to make a phone call,' he said. The woman nodded and brought a black, Bakelite telephone up from the depths.

'What's the number, sir?'

'Mulansart 431.'

She quickly dialled the number before handing the receiver over ('It's ringing, sir.') and turning her benevolent attention to a young couple with a small child, who were waiting to check in to the hotel. The Captain listened to the phone ring, waiting for it to be answered.

_'Hello?' _said a voice on the other end.

'Nestor?' the Captain asked.

_'Cutts the butcher,' _the voice replied.

'Oh for the love of…!' The Captain slammed the phone down and bit back a diatribe: the small boy was staring up at him with round, runny eyes and a nose to match. He forced a smile before leaning over the desk to stab the correct number into the infernal machine. 'Blistering barnacles, it's always the same! If you want something done right, do it yourself! Nestor? Nestor! Is that you?'

_'Yes, sir. I hope you are enjoying your stay?' _As ever, Nestor sounded completely buttoned up.

'Well, I was, but now I'm wondering what the hell is going on!'

_'Ah. I take it you have already heard? I had feared I was too late in warning you. How is the young master holding up?'_

'He's gone mad.'

_'Really? That's a shame. It sometimes hits young people hard, the first taste of mortality.' _

'What are you blathering on about?' the captain snapped. 'Actually, don't tell me. What's the situation there?'

_'Well, various reputable publications have been phoning non-stop, asking for a quote from Master Tintin, and half of Europe's gutter press are camped on the verge outside the gate. Regrettably, I forget they're there and frequently turn on the sprinklers. Very lax of me, I know, but they're a very rude bunch.' _

'Damn.' The Captain tried to think of a solution. 'So they think Tintin's still in Marlinspike?'

_'Yes, sir. I've done nothing to dissuade of them of that notion. The young master needs peace at a time like this'._

'Fine. Let them keep thinking that. We'll throw them a comment, though, to shut them up. Let's see… "Mr Tintin is grievously…. No, er, deeply upset by the passing of Chang Chon-Chen and, er, would like to thank the media for respecting his and the Wang family's privacy during this difficult time." How's that?'

_'Very eloquent, sir. And very poignant, if I may say so myself. It really is a dreadful thing, for a such a young life to be cut short. Am I to understand that you and the young master will be flying directly to Singapore for the funeral? Or memorial,' _he added, _'as the case may be?' _

'No.' The Captain braced himself. 'Tintin's off to Tibet. He wants to look for Chang.'

_'I… hmmm.' _Nestor, fair play to him, only sounded a little off balance but otherwise gave a sterling performance of a man who hears insane whims every day. _'I see, sir. If it's all the same to you, I shall continue to mislead the journalists here, in order to give Mr Tintin more time to make good his escape.' _

'Perfect,' the Captain agreed. 'You keep them there, and I'll try and get Tintin out of France as quietly as possible.' _But I'm not, _he promised himself as he hung up, _going with him. Blistering barnacles, no way! _

* * *

**Author's Note:** in this universe, Chang and his adoptive family live in Singapore, following the events of _Blue Lotus_, as it would be very unlikely that the communist government of China would allow a group like the _Sons of the Dragon_ to remain living openly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

_You're only given a little spark of madness. You mustn't lose it_

- Robin Williams

* * *

As the Captain disembarked in the Indira Gandhi International Airport in New Delhi, he had to admit that it _was _very mild and pleasant, just as the pilot had said. Exactly _how _he'd ended up in New Delhi was another story entirely; one he wasn't too sure about. He remembered finding Tintin with his laptop, searching for flights out of France, and while the Captain continued ranting about the futility of it all Tintin had somehow guided him to the chair in front of the laptop where he'd lapsed into habit and booked two seats on an _AirIndia _plane that left that night. They'd hopped from plane to plane, relying on cancellations to get them this far, but Fate had somehow managed to give them two adjoining seats the whole way there. It was as though the Universe had come together in order to get Tintin to his destination, specifically to annoy Captain Haddock.

Their next plane, a small private plane engaged in flying people back and forth throughout the world, left from Safdarjung Airfield on the other side of the city. It wouldn't fly out until later that afternoon, however, leaving them with a few hours to waste.

'Bus or taxi?' the Captain asked. They were outside the airport, and on the streets in front of them he could see a large coach waiting at a bus stop, destined for Safdarjung. Across the road was a line of brightly coloured cars, each with a taxi light on top. Tintin glanced at each: the bus was packed with passengers already - Safdarjung did a busy trade at the best of times.

'Our luggage will get there anyway,' he pointed out. 'D'you fancy seeing some of the city instead?'

The Captain blinked in surprise. 'Er, we might as well.'

As they hopped into a taxi and headed to the Qutab Minar, the Captain realised he was unnerved by how calm his young friend was. At the moment, he was pouring over a map he'd found in the taxi and consulting the driver as to which attractions they should visit (he recommended the Qutab Minar and either the Red Fort of the Rajghat, instead of the Jama Masjid, which was Tintin's suggestion, but it all depended on time and traffic, of course), as if he was on holiday instead of slowly going insane.

And he _was _going insane: the Captain was sure of it. There had been fireworks the evening before, when that Wang chap - the dead boy's father - had rung Tintin to ask when did they arrive in Singapore for Chang's memorial service. The Captain had simply handed the phone over and let Tintin explain himself.

Mr Wang hadn't been happy. The Captain had buried his head in the newspaper but couldn't help overhearing the general tone of the conversation. The words 'friendship', 'respect' and eventually 'delusional' and 'mad' had come through the wire crystal clear, and Tintin had that determined set to his jaw he got every time he wanted to prove someone wrong.

_Still, _the Captain thought, _it's nice to know that I'm not the only one who thinks he's mad. _

_But if he's mad, what does that make you? _A second voice asked. _After all, he believes in what he's doing. _

_Well, I guess that makes me the maddest mad-man of them all. _

**xxx**

Raj clutched his knees and wheezed with laughter as the cow took off at a jiggling canter, a screaming German man clinging desperately to her horns. Her udders danced and frisked as the German's shrill girlfriend ran behind them, her flip-flops flapping against the pavement.

'Pay up,' Dinesh said, swallowing his own laughter. Dinnesh and Raj had been friends since their first year of university. They'd shared a house in their native London since then, and this was not the first outlandish bet they'd made.

'Oh my God!' Raj choked back his giggles. 'I can't believe that worked!' He looked up at his friend, his eyes glinting wickedly. 'Double or nothing! Come on!'

Dinesh slapped him on the back of the head. 'Give over! You honestly think there's two idiots in the city who still think we worship cows like this?'

'Yeah! There's bound to be!'

'Alright, you're on!'

**xxx**

As predicted, there hadn't been enough time to see either the Jama Masjid or the Raghet. In fact, there was barely enough time to find another taxi, which seemed to be in short supply over on this side of the city, which was thronged with people and a bright street market that Tintin could have happily wandered in for hours, under other circumstances. As it was, he was having a hard time trying to keep a lid on the sudden whirlwind of emotion that had set up residence inside him. The fear, grief and anxiety he'd been carrying around for the last two days were starting to feel like old friends now, dwarfed only by the sudden bouts of shocking exuberance that distracted him from his darker thoughts. The exuberance was borne from the simple fact that he knew Chang was alive, and that they would see each other soon enough.

'Now what's up?' the Captain asked, distracting his young friend from his thoughts. 'Look, there's a crowd down there.'

'I hope it's not an accident,' Tintin replied.

'Bah. Probably a fight.' They got closer and the Captain's confusion grew. 'Is that a cow?'

It _was _a cow: one of a long-horned variety that was lying firmly across the narrow entrance to the next street. Beyond the cow was a line of taxis, their bodywork shimmering enticingly in the afternoon sun.

'She's chosen a good spot to lie down.' The Captain waved his hand at the cow. 'Hup-ya!'

'No, no sahib!' A tall Asian man with a round face - who looked like he was fighting back a grin - bowed his way over to them. 'Sacred cow, sahib! No disturb her!'

'Sacred cow?' Tintin asked suspiciously. He knew that, once upon a time when a cow meant the world to a rural family. They were revered. But in the huge metropolitan cities those times were gone. A degree was worth more than a cow these days, and degrees weren't exactly in short supply.

'Yes, sahib, sacred cow,' the man said smoothly. 'We must wait until she moves.'

'Pfft!' the Captain snorted. 'We've a plane to catch.'

'Sacred cow must not be moved, sahib!'

'Where are you from?' Tintin asked. The man's accent kept slipping.

'Me? I, er, am from here, sahib.'

'Really? You have a bit of an English twang to your accent. Captain, I think we're the butt of a joke - What _are _you doing?'

The Captain looked up. He was currently straddling the recumbent cow. 'Me? Well, if she won't move, I might as well go over her. Come on: the taxis are right there and our plane leaves in thirty five minutes.'

Daisy the cow was annoyed. She didn't like this dirty, loud place or the two men that had brought her in the back of a small truck. She'd wanted to spend the day eating and sleeping and gossiping in the field with her sisters, but so far she'd been petted and clambered on by some idiot two-legs. Disgruntled at being used as a climbing frame again, she got to her feet quickly in an effort to shake the second idiot two-legs off, but it wasn't budging. Instead, it started to make loud noises, which frightened Daisy a little.

_'Hey! Woah! What are you at, you daft cow? Stop it!' _

Mooing indignantly, Daisy took off into a lumbering canter, the two-legs still clinging to her horns as she picked up speed.

Tintin took off after the Captain and the cow, aware of the gales of laughter behind them. The Indian man shouted; _'Yeah! Got ya!' _in a very English accent. Fuming at the joke and the Captain's gullibility, Tintin resisted the urge to turn around and give the man a piece of his mind, but decided it was probably wiser to keep the Captain in sight. God alone knew what might befall the man next: it sometimes felt like he needed constant supervision!

The cow, with Snowy at her feet barking excitedly, made it quite a distance. She also managed to destroy a few market stalls and almost ran over a startled policeman who was trying to direct traffic. Then, after causing a few cars to swerve, Daisy ran out of steam and simply bucked the Captain from her back. He sailed through the air with a bloodcurdling shriek, but instead of skinning himself on the uneven tarmac he landed with a _Flump! _on a rather softer surface.

He very carefully accounted for all his limbs before sitting up to take stock of his new situation. He appeared to be half sitting, half sprawled, on the back seat of a convertible Mini Cooper. Luckily, the top had been down at the time so there was no damage to the car itself. A rather surprised looking Indian man, who had been reading the newspaper, peered around at him.

'Need a taxi?' the man offered.

'Er, yes actually,' the Captain replied as he scrambled to right himself. 'But I'm just waiting for - Ah! Here he is!'

Tintin shouldered his way through the crowd and passed the cow before dumping their hand luggage in the backseat beside the Captain. He gripped the top of the car's door and vaulted in after it. ' Safdarjung Airfield, please!' he said breathlessly to the driver.

The Captain checked his watch. 'We've got twenty minutes before the flight leaves.'

'Not to worry!' The driver started the car and pulled away from the curb. 'Best taxi in New Delhi, mate! Nothing can stop me!'

'My hat!' the Captain cried as it flew off his head. He snatched wildly at the air but to no avail. The driver braked sharply, almost strangling Tintin, who was still fiddling with his seatbelt.

'Jump out and grab that, will you?' the Captain begged. With a sigh of impatience, Tintin scrambled out of the car. He returned a few seconds later with the Captain's precious hat. 'Hold on to it this time!' he warned.

The car took off again and they made good time for about five minutes, before the Captain cried out in pain, clapping one hand over his face. 'My eye!' he cried. 'Ten thousand ruddy typhoons, I've got something in my eye!'

The driver braked but this time Tintin braced himself, prepared for the abrupt stop. 'Look up,' he ordered as he leaned over and examined the Captain's right eye.

'We'll never make it in time,' the driver prophesied.

Tintin sighed again. 'I can't see anything,' he announced, 'but your eye's gone all bloodshot. You'll just have to wait until we're on the plane. Sorry, Captain. Hey, driver, you think you can make up for lost time?'

'Ill give it my best shot,' came the answer as he gunned the engine again, 'or we'll die trying!'

**xxx**

The were on time - barely. They flashed their boarding passes and passports at the startled terminal staff, hurtled out onto the runway and directed themselves towards the plane. The small stair car was just pulling away from the light passenger plane, but Tintin hollered incoherently and it stopped and reversed back into position for them. At the top of the steps the door opened and a woman dressed in navy appeared, shouting encouragingly and beckoning to them. Suddenly, her shouts turned to warnings, and Tintin risked turning his head to see what the problem was.

The Captain, his eye watering badly and half-blinded by it, had found the wrong stair car. It was a solitary gangway that stood alone on the runway a few yards away.

_'Captain! Stop! That's the wrong' -_

But it was too late. The Captain reached the top of it and, believing himself to be at the plane, ended up launching himself into space. Tintin's own sprint came to an end as he collapsed to his knees in laughter.

**xxx**

Tintin clutched the first-aid box as the stewardess finished up cleaning the Captain's various cuts and grazes. He didn't dare look at his friend for fear of succumbing to unkind, wild laughter. Again. Unbidden, the image of the Captain came to mind once more: long arms and legs pin-wheeling uselessly through thin air.

'Now, let's see what's in your eye,' the stewardess said kindly as, beside them, Tintin dissolved once more into silent giggles.


End file.
